


The Art of Mending a Broken Heart

by Spongeekat



Category: Captain America (Movies), Deadpool - All Media Types, Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anxiety, Depression, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gun Violence, Identity Reveal, M/M, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Secret Identity, Secret Relationship, Superfamily, Superfamily (Marvel), Vision doesn't exist
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-09 21:31:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14723949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spongeekat/pseuds/Spongeekat
Summary: Peter Parker is 19 when he has to move back in with his Dads, Steve and Tony, after years of being separated. Harry's death is still hanging over his head, and his reputation with the general public is dropping, so the last thing he wants to do is try to fix a broken relationship with his parents, while simultaneously hiding his superhero secret identity from a tower of Avengers. Wade is also suddenly taking an interest in civilian Peter, and Peter really doesn't know how to handle it all.





	1. Chapter 1

**November 25th, Friday**

Peter had grown to love his room tucked away on the rickety second floor of his humble home. While some may have taken a look at his Queens home- which was valued at a much higher price than the ancient shack was worth due to its New York location- and saw the flaws in the peeling paint and the stained carpets, Peter only saw the happiness that had survived there. He heard the ghost of Ben’s whistling in early mornings, which typically meant May was in the kitchen giggling as bacon sizzled on the stove. He could see the worn away footprints leading up to his bedroom, a path that had been taken on repeat since he was 14. Pictures of him, his Aunt, and his late Uncle, Father, and Mother were hanging on chipped frames in the halls. While the house of 3 had decreased to 2 in more recent years, Aunt May had been enough to make the rooms still feel just as alive as they had previous.

However, the love the property had seen wasn’t enough to save it evidently, as Aunt May was suddenly faced with a foreclosure that had been looming over her head for a while.

At 19 years old, Peter found himself finally clearing out adolescent memories from his shelves. His figures went in a Goodwill donation box along with his bedding and any odd pieces of furniture he’d collected. He was told not to bring anything that could be replaced to his new home, informed his room would be newly renovated when he arrived. He took only his clothes, laptop, school supplies, and photograph books, along with a few sentimental trinkets he couldn’t bear to dispose of. Otherwise, he watched a collection truck haul away the excess from his bedroom window, the empty room seeming much larger than before.

Aunt May had left that morning before him on an airplane, having to take the only flight that could accommodate her special needs. However, she wasn’t heading to the same location as Peter. She had elected to move to Ontario with her step-sister’s family after facing the hard financial decision. Peter had been offered the same accomodation, but Aunt May wouldn’t allow him to leave New York. His college was there, May reminded him every time he begged her to let him follow her, and he had worked so terribly hard to make it in to such a prestigious school. Besides, he had family in New York that were ready to take him in at any moment. Despite it remaining unsaid, Peter also knew that May felt guilty letting Peter take care of her all those years since the accident, and wanted to spare him the burden when he was already given so much responsibility. Still, Peter would give up any spare time he had just to make sure she was doing okay and was well looked after.

Instead, he was shoving his boxes in the back of his Step-Aunt Denise’s Nissan, waiting to be driven to Manhattan to be dropped off for good.

It was the day after Thanksgiving, and that Thursday had been quite the awkward experience. He didn’t particularly like May’s family, and sitting through an excruciating dinner of envy and criticism had been nearly unbearable. Of course the source of their jealousy had always been Peter’s roots; after all, he had been born to wealthy scientists that lived quite the opposite life of them, and even after they had passed, he had been adopted to men that had possessed fifty times the value of his biological parents. Tony Stark, a friend to Richard Parker, had been the signer of his adoption papers all those years ago, though Steve Rogers was his coparent, and this was a fact that extended family was well aware of. When Aunt May had gotten in her accident and became disabled when Peter was 14, and Ben was contemplating having to quit his job altogether to take care of her, the teen had readily offered to move in to take on the caretaker role. Somehow this had caused quite a bit of disdain towards their small family, thinking Peter somehow owed it to everyone else to shovel out his Dad’s wealth, but Peter had long ago separated himself from the money. Other than Tony’s payments towards Peter’s expensive tuition and a monthly ‘allowance’ that Aunt May and Uncle Ben had forced him to put into savings rather than spend it on them, they had always refused financial help. If Peter was going to live with them and give so much of his life to helping, they weren’t also going to use him as a paycheck.

Denise was quietly brooding throughout the drive to Stark Industries, clearly not wanting to have the burden of helping Peter pushed on her. Her husband was just as, if not more, emotionally absent, leaving Peter to sit silently with his step cousin in the back. They kicked him out on the curb just in front of the building, him hauling his stuff out as quickly as possible as they pestered him so they could make it home at a reasonable hour. His stuff was easy to lift though he had too many boxes to efficiently grab at once, and just as he reached for the last few just to at least set them on the pavement, a larger hand stopped his. Following the length of the man’s arm he stared up into pleasant blue eyes that seemed just as confused, yet thrilled, to see him, and he awkwardly cracked out a ‘hey’ that made him sound considerably younger.

“Peter.” Steve greeted with more of a formal tone than Peter had ever remembered him using. “I’m glad you made it here alright. Let me help.”

Denise and her husband had seemed to shut it in the front seat upon seeing the soldier, sinking back into their seats as far as they could hide. Peter picked up his boxes and messenger bag, slinging it over his shoulder, before he followed the soldier towards the building that he had lived in years ago.

“Hey, Steve.” Peter finally managed to force out, the endearment ‘Pops’ feeling like it didn’t fit in his mouth any longer. “Uh, thanks.”

“Of course.” A pause. “Tony is inside handling a legal issue at the front desk. He’s excited to see you.”

Peter forced a smile on his lips as he nodded, finding it hard to believe the inventor had time to even remember he was coming, but soon they were walking inside the familiar office space without a hesitation.

Pepper was the first person from Peter’s past to spot him. The redhead jumped at the sight of Peter, dropping her tablet on the front desk as she scurried in a more than graceful manner over to him. “You’re looking great!” She complimented warmly, sweet in a way that didn’t feel forced and made him feel much more relaxed. “God, you’ve grown so much. How have you been?”

“Awesome.” Peter lied, and though she could see through it, she passed it off as the truth to save them both the discomfort.

“Good, good. Well, I have a meeting in just a few minutes with my legal team, but you should definitely come to my office sometime to catch up. Feel better, Peter.” Pepper grinned and brushed his shoulder lightly with her hand, before heading back to gather herself. Peter already felt overwhelmed by the sheer number of people passing through his space as if he couldn’t even afford their time, but Steve stood just a bit closer and made him feel less lost.

The agonizing seconds waiting for Tony seemed to drag on, and Peter almost suggested they just head up to the condo located on a top floor as he had probably forgotten about him anyways. However, a second later the elevators parted, revealing the billionaire himself… looking less like himself than the last time Peter had seen him. He looked older, though not just by physical age, but as if he had progressed emotionally at a very high rate since the last time they had lived together. Grey peppered his black slicked back hair, his suit seemed to fit just a tad looser, and he carried himself with much less confidence than before. Still, he seemed to raise his eyebrows in surprise at Peter as well, and he could only assume similar inferences were going through his head.

“Hey, Ton--”

“You look exhausted.”

Peter blinked at the comment (which could very well be taken as an insult) from behind the boxes loaded in his arms, before frowning. “Well, I’m a college student, and I’ve been trying to move out for the past month. So I’m a little tired I guess.”

“You just look like you haven’t slept in years. Are you feeling alright?”

“I’m good.” Peter’s voice was a bit more strained, and he heard Steve sigh behind him.

“We’re glad to have you home, Peter.” Steve reassured, and motioned them towards the opposite elevators that required a fingerprint to gain access. They lead up to restricted areas only available to the Avengers and SHIELD. “Even if Tony can’t tell you properly.”

Peter begrudgingly gave up his bag in lieu of Tony wanting to help him with his stuff, and the trio made their way upstairs. The elevator hummed over their uncomfortable silence occasionally broken by small talk, though Peter preferred them not talking than trying to repair bridges that had been torn down in his teenage years.

When they reached the condo, Peter was surprised to find his memory of the place was more than accurate. The set up had barely changed, besides maybe a new lamp that was likely replacing one that had been accidentally smashed at a point in time. Peter knew that Tony wasn’t huge on decorating, but that must have meant he also had been much too busy to even consider changing the way things looked. Peter took careful steps through familiar halls with the same artwork that had been hung before, before they ended up at his old bedroom on top of a short set of stairs separated from the rest of the condo. Apparently his room was the only to change in the entire home; his bed had been replaced with a queen, his desk was sleeker and newer, and the curtains and bedding all appeared to be a new set. He set his boxes down alongside those that Steve was carrying, gazing around. The room felt less like his now, and more of a guest room utilized for him.

“Do you like it?” Tony inquired, and Peter kept his gaze off of him.

“It’s nice.” Peter couldn’t stand the way it made him feel, but he wasn’t going to make Tony feel purposefully bad. “Thanks.”

“Do you want us to help you unpack? We’d love to spend more time now that you just got-”

“It’s okay.” Peter promised, cutting Steve off before he could finish his offer. “I got it.”

Steve and Tony shared a look before he tried again. “We really don’t mind, if it’ll help you finish faster.”

“I think I just want to do it. I have a lot of stuff I have to figure out how to organize.” Peter shook his stack of boxes for emphasis, then ditched them on the floor. “I probably won’t take forever.”

He could see the disappointment on their faces, but Steve hid it behind a kind grin. “Alright, make yourself comfortable. We’re ordering food in at 7, though, and would appreciate it if you’d join us to eat.”

“Sure.”

 

With that, Steve and Tony began to slip out, paused as if to say something, then decided against it and closed the door behind them. Peter was grateful for his time alone and took the chance to collapse back on the bed in emotional exhaustion. That felt like the longest time he had spent with Tony in the past 5 years he hadn’t been talking about work the entire time, and he hated that they were trying to act normal.

Anxiety from having to see his parents again was only the topping on the pile of stressors Peter had been dealing with. Recent crimes had left quite a few corpses strung through Queens, and quite a few had been due to Peter’s mistake or inability to save all parties involved. This had left him quite vulnerable to both the public and his own self-denigration, and with dreams of Harry, who had recently passed during a fight with Spider-Man, popping up again, he felt himself spiraling out of control. He had felt rather abandoned by his Dads in the beginning when he had moved out to live with May and Ben, though he had gotten used to the feeling the older he got and the busier they grew. Still, it opened old wounds moving back in with them, and he didn’t feel he held the same trust that he used to for his super-powered family.

Depression had been looming on the outskirts of his conscious thought, though the thought made him queasy. He didn’t have time to deal with negative emotions; not when he had people to save.

There was also the fact that he couldn’t risk to let his guard down, even for a moment. Living in a home of heroes had been easier when he was _just_ Peter Parker, but at present time he had to keep his night-time hobbies under wraps. SHIELD wasn’t exactly Peter’s biggest fan, especially when he refused to remove his mask though they had requested him to register under them several times. He wasn’t about to give up his identity and risk anyone else finding out, especially when that name could be traced back to May Parker. He couldn’t put her in that much danger.

Thinking of May, Peter absentmindedly checked his phone. There were no new texts, though Peter didn’t expect any after her long flight. He instead sent her a quick message, dropped his phone on the bed, and rolled onto his side. At least he could sleep for a bit, if nothing else, and put off dealing with the world until later.

\--

“Terrific.”

Peter hurriedly pulled on a new sweater, his button up now wrinkled past repair. He had accidentally snoozed his 6:50 PM alarm, and had just barely woken up at 7:20. If there was anything Steve hated most, it was tardiness. “Great, Peter, just great. You’re going to get them mad at you your first day back.”

Peter barely managed to make it out the door, tripping over his own two feet as he sprinted towards the dining area. He decided to skip the stairs, electing instead to jump over the rails as he landed on the ground, before skipping a few steps as he stumbled. He stopped and gathered himself in the living room, fixed his hair, then walked in to see his parents.

Peter’s hands rubbed his eyes tiredly as he yawned,the anxiety of waking up late not even enough to stave off exhaustion. “Sorry.” He mumbled in a tired voice, drawing his hands down from his eyes. “My alarm didn’t go off…?”

He looked back into the eyes of the men and women he had only seen on TV screens over the past few years, stopping in his tracks. Familiar faces were sat at a few of the dining room chairs, though some he only knew by their superhero name. Peter awkwardly waved with a small smile, his nerves frying up. “Oh, awkward.”

“Glad you decided to show up.” Clint greeted as he stood from his chair, walking up and immediately pulling Peter into a hug. “And here I was thinking you had avoided us all this time.”

“Hey, Clint.” Peter grinned, brushing his hands off when he tried to give him an unwelcome noogie. Calling him ‘Uncle’ still hurt, but he didn’t let it show. “And Nat. I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Yes, you have.” Natasha retorted, making Peter’s heart forget how to beat for the second he thought she might know who he was. “I came to your graduation.”

Oh, yeah. She, Steve, and Clint had been in the stands, until they got an emergency call and caused a rather large commotion when they revealed themselves.

“Right, right, sorry.”

“I’m Wanda.”

Peter glanced up at the girl sitting across from him, smiling warmly. He knew her from news reports as Scarlet Witch, though he hadn’t yet had the chance to figure out her real name. It was odd seeing her in person. She didn’t seem to go with the Avengers on missions very often. “Peter.”

She grinned in response, folding her arms. Wanda couldn’t have been much older than him. “I know. Everyone here was very quick to tell me about you when I first moved in.”

Peter felt his cheeks flare up in embarrassment, but he just smiled and nodded his silent hello.

“So, anything new, kiddo?” Clint asked as they started digging in. Peter glanced down at his food, which seemed to be from some high end restaurant in the area he typically couldn’t afford, and he suddenly didn’t feel as hungry. “How’s school going?”

Peter paused, contemplating it. Not as great as he hoped, but he was keeping up. “It’s been good. I’m majoring in biochemistry, and considering minoring in physics. But I don’t have any solid plans yet.”

“You want to be a scientist?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Peter’s fingertips drug through the hair on the back of his head, forgetting he hadn’t had a proper conversation about his schooling with this group of people in quite a while. “I originally wanted to go for engineering,” Like Tony. “But I think I’ve decided to do radiobiology instead.” It wasn’t a very large field, and may not have held the most promising discoveries, but it was the way he would get closest to unlocking secrets about his powers, as well as the work Richard was conducting when they had disappeared. However, with how his schooling was faltering in present time, he wasn’t even sure he would make it that far.

“Who did you live with before this?” Wanda inquired as she looked up from her plate. Just as Peter, she seemed to have little interest in her food. “You were adopted by Tony and Steve, right?”

Peter glanced at Tony, as if waiting for him to answer, though when he didn’t respond, Peter sat heavily back in his chair. “After my parents died, yeah. But I ended up moving in with my Aunt and Uncle for a while when I was still in highschool.”

“The Aunt that just moved to Canada? Does she work?”

Peter paused, then shook his head, trying to remain as vague as possible. “No, she’s in a wheelchair now. I moved back to help care for her.”

“What about your Uncle?”

Peter felt the shift at the table. The other 4 knew about Ben. He had still been close with them all when he had first moved out, even if relationships tapered off in later years. Still, he hadn’t had a proper conversation with anyone about it excluding May. “He worked customer service at a company in Queens.” Wanda raised her eyebrow, about to ask where he worked now, but Peter cut her off. “He’s gone. He died a few years ago.”

“Oh.” Wanda’s questions fell short, and she found a sudden interest in her food once more. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

Peter felt bad. He could sense the heaviness now hanging in the air, and he didn’t want to have ruined their first meal together since he had moved back, especially not when they felt so important to Steve. What else what he supposed to say?

Small chatter picked back up around him between the Avengers, and no one decided to bother him throughout the entire rest of dinner.

\--

**November 28th, Monday**

Happy Hogan was someone Peter had greatly missed, and very much enjoyed hanging around. The man was a little stubborn, especially so now that he had been promoted along Tony’s ranks to head of security, accompanying his title as Best Driver of the Year. Still, he and Peter had always gotten along really well, and Happy and Pepper had been his family when Tony wasn’t around to be. Even after years of not seeing one another, Happy had the same grumpy look that appeared as if he was barely containing a dopey grin when Peter was escorted out to the car.

“Just because you’re older doesn’t mean I won’t keep the same watch over you.” Happy was ready to reprimand him as soon as he was within 5 feet, making Peter crack a smile. “You may have them thinking you’re over your troublemaking days, but I can see right through you.”

“Hi, Happy.” Peter slipped onto the posh, leather seat covers Tony ordered custom made. Happy closed the door firmly behind him, before taking his throne behind the wheel.

“Hey, kid.” Happy pulled out as both the two waved their goodbyes to Steve standing out on the curb. His eyes reflected back at Peter from the rearview mirror, seeming a lot more relaxed. “Sorry, I just have to let Steve and Tony know that I know I’m the boss.”

“You did a good job.”

“It’s all natural leadership skills.”

Again, Peter couldn’t help his smile. As much as he loved- and missed- living with Aunt May, he did have his childhood home here, and nostalgia was hitting him in droves. “It’s good to see you again, dude. I heard you got a promotion?”

“What, you didn’t expect it, with my years of dedication to your Dad?”

The rest of the ride was primarily composed of them chatting about random things- school, work, and Happy’s new relationship with Pepper- and it seemed almost an instant later they were at the front yard of Peter’s university. He shuffled out of the car, avoiding the stares he earned looking like a homely kid crawling out of an Audi R8.

“Call me when you want to go home.” Happy directed, but Peter waved it off.

“I prefer walking. Get home safe, Happy.”

“You, too, kid.”

Peter walked towards the front gates, knowing Gwen would be waiting for him before their first class. As predicted, she was beaming and waving before he had even properly come into sight. Gwen gave a short goodbye to other girls from her  
chem class, skipping down the stairs to where Peter was waiting.

“Hey, Mr. Billionaire.” Gwen teased, though Peter just groaned in an utter lack of amusement. “C’mon, there’s way worse things I could call you. Having a ton of money isn’t that bad.”

“It isn’t that great, either.” Peter mumbled as he pulled his old backpack on just a little bit tighter, the two making their way towards a building across campus.

“How has it been transitioning back?”

“Uneventful.” Peter shrugged, trying not to focus on the night before. He still felt guilty for making things more uncomfortable, and for heading back to his room for an early night. They couldn’t expect him to be all smiles his first day back, though. “We just ate dinner, and Happy drove me to school this morning. I’ve barely even talked to anyone else.”

“Sounds like a normal family. Ignoring each other is part of the deal.”

“I guess. It’s just weird, to be honest. I mean, they’re my Dads but in recent years they just feel more…?”

“Distant?” Gwen pulled the courtyard gate open for Peter, an understanding look passing over her face. “Yeah, it happens. It’ll get better in time. Just don’t give up on trying.”

A man yelling alerted Peter to the presence of a group forming right away. Printed signs were strung on large wooden blocks, being waved around in the air for all the see. At the center was a tall blonde man, his knuckles going white from how tightly he was gripping a megaphone at his mouth. His veins bulged in anger, and he shouted something that they normally wouldn’t be able to hear from how far away they stood. Peter’s enhanced senses could, however, and he caught the words ‘illegal vigilantes’ and ‘right to bear arms’ before they had even gotten close enough to see what the protest was about.

“Um..” Gwen eyed them suspiciously, a steady crowd of onlookers beginning to gather. “Do they not realize this is a college campus?”

“No, I think that’s the point.” Peter grimaced.

Up closer, they could see that those holding the signs were likely their age, or not that much older. Their signs showed the faces of several heroes, including both of Peter’s fathers, as well as vigilantes such as Daredevil and Jessica Jones. On the sign furthest from him he could make out the blue and red sheen of his suit, making him internally cringe. He certainly hadn’t expected to be notable enough to be included.

“We won’t let the government enact their control this hard! We KNOW what they’re doing under the guise of ‘heroes’ they can’t control! They’re trying to take away our civil rights, and any way we have to defend ourselves!”

“What does that even mean?” Gwen whispered, though Peter couldn’t even form an answer.

“These liberal PUSSIES want to take our guns away, but we say NO! Not when dangerous CRIMINALS are running on our streets and the senators won’t do a DAMN THING to take control of them! Keep these freaks off our streets, and keep the power in OUR hands!”

This guy was obviously delusional. Probably. Peter had been called a public menace among other terrible names before, but he knew he certainly wasn’t acting with ill intent. But this protest didn’t come as a surprise to him, considering the bills that were currently working to be passed through the House, trying to take control of vigilantes and heroes so they could be held responsible for any casualties or damage they caused. It had been a rough fight with Congress and representatives, from what Peter had seen on the news, the majority of voices stating they would love to see heroes demasked and put into special police forces. Obviously, Peter had been against it, and he hadn’t been around other heroes enough to know their thoughts.

But this was the first time he had ever seen gun rights extremists combining their movements with it as well.

“You really think your shotguns are gonna stop Iron Man? You guys are fucking stupid.”

Peter felt Gwen tugging him away from the scene, as arguments started to break out between the protesters and the crowd.

“Seriously, don’t bother yourself with them.” She smiled, dragging them towards their early morning class. “They’re the minority. Most people know what Spider-Man is doing isn’t bad. New York loves yo--...him.”

Peter winced, but nodded his head anyways. He knew that wasn’t true, if tabloids were any indication of his apparent popularity. He resolved himself to pushing it to the back of his mind, having more pressing issues to pay attention to at the moment than whether he had a fanbase or not.

Still, he knew he had people questioning whether he could actually protect them more recently. Gun violence had certainly become more of a problem in the past few weeks, and Peter unfortunately hadn’t been able to save everyone. The deaths had been weighing heavily on him, and even he had begun to wonder whether he possessed as much strength as he thought he had.

He ignored the volume increase of the protestors behind him, focusing on this lighthearted conversation with Gwen instead.

\--

“Hey, Tony, I got your text. What’s up?”

Peter skipped a few steps as he reached the main floor the condo, heading to where he assumed Tony to be in the living room. He had gotten a message requesting- or demanding- he meet with him, and all he could wonder was why Tony couldn’t put in the effort to walk up to his room.

“In here.” Tony called, and Peter followed the source of his voice to the main hallway. He stopped when he saw another person accompanying him, suspicion clearly etched on his face.

“Hey.”

“You’re Peter?” The man turned around, and Peter could now see kind eyes hidden behind thick glasses, recognition hitting him instantly. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I’m--”

“Banner!” Peter cut him off with an incredulous look on his face, an embarrassed smile immediately blossoming. “Bruce Banner. I’ve been following your work closely for years. I’ve read all of your journals.”

“Thank you.” Bruce gave him a kind smile, and Peter felt he’d pass out any second from the admiration he held. But why was Bruce there? He had disappeared from the field almost a decade ago, after a freak accident, from what Peter had heard. But Bruce looked totally normal.

“Banner’s going to open our international medical research branch this week.” Tony introduced, uncharacteristically quiet during their exchange. “Wakanda plans to work closely with us to develop more effective ways to distribute affordable aid, particularly to war-plagued countries. I want you to work as Banner’s assistant and second mind on this, Peter.”

“What?” Peter blinked in response, certainly not hearing him right, though their soft smiles seemed to prove that he had. “You want.. _me?_ Why?”

“I’ve heard you’re exceptional for your age.” Bruce grinned. “And I read through your senior project. You have some pretty great ideas already. I could use a young brain with fresh perspective working on this with me.”

“Plus you need a hobby.” Tony interjected before Peter’s ego could swell to the same degree his embarrassment was at. “And working at Stark Industries under a great boss looks good on a resume.”

“Yeah, Pepper’s great.” Peter teased, talking fast before Tony could butt in again. “But uh...yeah! That sounds great! When would I start?”

“Not sure, but soon.” Bruce stuck out his hand, and Peter took it timidly. “Well, it was great to finally meet with you, Peter. I hope to hear from you soon.”

“For sure, dude.” Peter kicked himself for the dumb response, but they were the only words he could presently find in his head.

Not even a second after the elevator doors closed behind Bruce, Tony was laughing, making Peter bristle. “Did you just call Banner, your childhood hero, ‘Dude?’”

“I panicked.” Peter flushed, his arms crossing tightly over his chest. “You could have told me he was here!”

“I would have missed the show.” Tony grinned, and shoved his thumb towards the elevator. “We’re going down too. I want to show you where you’ll be working.”

Peter breathed out an embarrassed sigh but resigned to following none-the-less, knowing he’d at least have a dozen more moments he could embarrass himself in front of Bruce in the future.

He was actually decently surprised by how...professionally Tony was treating him.

The work space was a true lab, with Stark technology littering the entire room. The computers were all very new, the tables were clean, and there was plenty of open space to work, as well as an office area off to the side to input data. It was on the same level as Tony’s lab in which he developed Avenger’s gear, which was to be expected, though on opposite ends of the hall. There was also room for a third person to operate, much less populated in technology, likely for a representative from Wakanda to come when they saw fit. Peter was directed to his workspace once their miniature tour was complete, and he immediately sat down at the computer to set up his account.

“This is… kind of incredible, Tony. Thanks.” Peter smiled as he answered the log in questions.

Tony nodded with a smile, and Peter avoided the thinking look he had on his face. He usually didn’t like what happened when Tony thought about what he would say before it popped out of his mouth.

“So, um, what do you want me to do now?”

“Is there anything you want to do?”

“What?”

“Erm…”

Peter swallowed hard and looked back and forth between the loading computer screen and Tony’s brows knit in thought. This was a conversation that was quickly growing awkward, and he wished his account would be processed a lot sooner in order to have a good distraction. “Slow connection.”

“Yeah.” Tony breathed in quietly, then spoke in a more serious, off-putting tone. “Work has been incredibly busy, especially since you left. What with… everything going on in recent years.”

“I’ve seen the news.” Peter said carefully.

“Still, I wish… I wish I had been more involved in your life after you left.”

 _Here it is._ Peter groaned in his head. _The awkward conversation you’d been avoiding._

“You were busy.” Peter murmured back, noting his own distaste in his words. He didn’t mean to sound upset, but 5 years of anger built up fast.

“You don’t believe that any more than I do.” Tony sighed, sitting back on one of the tables across from Peter’s chair. “I had no reason not to keep closer tabs on your financial situation. I should have been helping you out more. You deserve much more help than just college tuition.”

What? Peter frowned, then opened his mouth to give a well-thought out response. “What?” Okay, Tony was throwing him really off guard. He thought their negative relationship was...because of money?

“I know how much you three struggled.” Tony continued, each word making Peter’s throat tighter and tighter. “Especially after Ben passed. They were very stern on not accepting any help beyond setting up a savings account for your college years, but I shouldn’t have taken ‘no’ for an answer. You’re my son, and my responsibility.”

“No, it’s okay.” Peter muttered dejectedly, pushing down the annoyance that was clearly muddling his head. Tony thought their issues were based around financial issues? Not the missed birthdays, only made up by cards sent by Pepper, or the voice mails that never got returned? “Seriously. I’m glad we struggled. I appreciate working for things much more now. And May and Ben don’t… didn’t like taking charity when they were fine with where they were at.”

Tony shook his head, staring at Peter’s frown in confusion. He clearly must have thought he would fix all their issues in that one conversation. “I didn’t mean charity. I owed it to you guys-”

“You didn’t owe them anything. They’re my family, not yours.” Peter said blatantly, and turned to his computer to turn it off just as his account finished processing. He paused to sigh, hearing Tony’s sharp breath to his right. Forcing a smile and a more even voice, he stood to gather his stuff. “Look, it’s okay. I’m not upset about it, and I never once expected you to do that kind of stuff. Can we drop it? I have homework I really gotta do before I sleep tonight.”

“Sure, kid.” Tony could barely look at Peter, and Peter _would_ feel bad, but at the present moment all he wanted was to avoid this uncomfortable situation. “I have a meeting in a few minutes I have to run to.”

“Cool, um, I’ll see you at dinner.”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks for setting this up again. I really appreciate it.”

Peter scurried out quickly after that, leaving Tony sitting alone in the lab fiddling on his IPad. Things felt much more awkward than they had before that conversation, but hopefully they couldn’t get worse.

 

\--

“So, we’re cool then, J?” Peter shoved the last of his suit into the bottom section of his backpack, smothering it with textbooks and crinkled papers. Dragging it on over his shoulder, he balanced on a bedpost and reached over to push open his window as quietly as possible. “You’re not going to tell Steve and Tony every time I leave at night?”

“Master Peter, I really do think you should disclose your departure times to Mr. Rogers and Mr. Stark.” As always, JARVIS’s programmed emotions were very evident in his tone, as told by his exasperated sigh. They’d been in a heated debate all night over the privileges Peter had in dictating his privacy, and eventually Peter had worn JARVIS down to compliance after threatening to hack his system. “But no, I will not issue an alert each time you leave the property. However, I will not delete the security footage.”

“Fair.” Peter nodded, pulling his hoodie up over his head, a makeshift mask until he was far enough away to change. “Just file it away somewhere they won’t immediately be able to find it?”

“That is a request I would need permission from Mr. Stark to complete.”

“Okay, okay, just leave it as it is.” Peter groaned and dropped himself onto the edge of his window sill. After days of investigating, he had discovered the location of the majority of the cameras; none in his room, though there was one right outside his window. If he dropped directly down and slightly to the right, he could mostly conceal his exit. “Thanks again, JARVIS.”

“Please return soon.”

“We’ll see!”

Peter let go of the windowsill, the wind immediately rushing through his ears and his hair as adrenaline began to pulse. 5 stories passed in a flash, then 10, then 20, and the ground was catching up to Peter at a rapid rate. Pushing back his sleeve, he shot out his arm, a web nearly invisible in the dark catching on the ledge of a nearby skyscraper. Gravity snapped Peter’s descent to a halt, and instead left him flying parallel to the streets of Manhattan. Excitement flashed at the edges of his vision, knuckles turning white as they clenched in anticipation. Avoiding patrol for a few days was taking its toll, and he had grown antsy to be out on the streets again, especially if it gave him a break from the Avengers. But now that he had gotten a basic idea of when his dad’s went to bed- or at least when they decided they wouldn’t bother Peter anymore for the night- and had mapped out the easiest escape routes, he could at least add some normalcy back into his life.

If being a superhero as a hobby even constituted as ‘normal.’

Tonight, however, he couldn’t put off being Spider-Man any longer. Another night of listening intently to his police scanner had added up to 3 more cases of gun violence and robberies in his local area alone, all suspects being identified as ‘young adults’ or ‘adolescents,’ which had added up to much higher numbers than normal. He’d began looking into how these kids were getting access to guns in the first place a few weeks ago, but so far all leads had pointed to some cult like group distributing them. The cult-ish group was apparently getting them from another gang-or-something group in Hell’s Kitchen, which was where Peter was dropping in now.

The rooftop of a run-down Russian bakery at 45th and 10th was usually where Peter waited when he had a favor to ask of Daredevil. Call it intuition, or a careful web of cameras covering the city Daredevil probably had monitored at his hideout, but he always seemed to know within the hour when Peter was there. All the Spider had to do was wait it out, which he usually did by catching up on his sleep.

No more than 20 minutes later the sound of heavy boots scraping the gravel near his head woke Peter from a half-dazed nap. He gazed into the haunting red lenses of the other’s armored uniform, sitting up with a dramatic yawn. “Took you long enough! I’ve been here for hours.”

“What do you need?” The ever-so-dark voice demanded, and Peter finished standing to stretch the kinks out of his back.

“Have you had any recent run-ins with any gun fanatics?” He asked in a much more serious tone, crossing his arms over his chest. “There’s been a lot more issues in both Manhattan and Queens. Apparently robbery-at-gunpoint is now rated E-for-Everyone.”

Daredevil didn’t even crack a grin, which was intimidating, but Peter just sighed and let his joke go unappreciated.  
“Anyways, someone’s trying to get more firearms into the hands of the youth,” Most of these suspects hadn’t been much younger than him. Some may have even gone to school with him at some point. He wasn’t that old, even if this job made him feel like it. “And every time I’ve followed any leads they all led me back to here. I thought maybe you had heard or seen something.”

“No, not recently.” Daredevil shook his head, reaching into his pocket. He produced a small, black flip phone, which he tossed to Peter. “Send yourself a text on your burner. I’ll let you know if I find out anything.”

“Got it.” Peter murmured as he quickly typed in his own phone number and sent himself an emoticon with devil-horns. He didn’t have a burner, but Daredevil didn’t have to know that. “I don’t want this getting any bigger, if I can help it. One of the kids shot in Queens was only 15. I don’t know how high-schoolers are getting guns, or why these people are obsessed with creating a child army, but I don’t think the people distributing them out have very high standards.”

Daredevil caught his phone and shoved it back away in his pocket, walking back to the ledge that led to the dark alley he had come from. “Then we’ll stop it.” He said decisively, and before Peter could process how hauntingly cool he really was he had already slid down a fire-escape ladder and disappeared into the night bathed in sirens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like my work, consider donating to my ko-fi! All funds will go towards giving me more time to write and update. ko-fi.com/katren


	2. Chapter 2

**December 1st- Thursday**

 

It was understandable that Aunt May hadn’t had much time to talk to Peter since she had moved away. To start, she was in a different country. Even if it may not have been _extremely_ different in culture, her surroundings had to be entirely new, and from what he understood the house wasn’t quite wheelchair friendly yet.

 

Still, 5 days with minimal replies made him feel lonely in an entirely new way. Without May, he felt like the quiet and troubled 14 year old boy he had been last time he was in this tower.

 

Aunt May and Uncle Ben had been catholics. Peter wasn’t religious- his biological parents hadn’t been either- but he had adopted the faith living with them. They stopped going to church sometime before May’s accident, and it became an afterthought once Peter moved in. However, when Ben died, May suddenly seemed to carry her rosary around twice as often and prayers were a more common occurrence. Between Peter’s schooling and Aunt May’s physical therapy, the only night they both had off was Thursdays. The only Thursday Mass at a suitable time for them both was at St. Patrick’s Cathedral, led by Rev. Father Lantom in Hell’s Kitchen. It was almost an hour drive, yet May somehow managed to have them planted in the pews by 6 PM every Thursday following the funeral. It had become one of the only stable plans in their lives, and that time spent away from Spider-Man and life and misery meant a lot to both Peter and May.

 

Obviously Peter spent his first Thursday in Stark Industries laying in bed, church the last thing on his mind.

 

Sometime around noon his phone went off, and as Peter’s groggy eyes adjusted to the light he was able to make out the text.

 

**_I miss you too, Peter. I’m sorry for being so hard to get ahold of. It’s a lot harder to get around this house than our old one. Thursday nights are much lonelier without you. Be safe and try to enjoy your time with Tony and Steve. I’ll be praying for you to keep your head up. Call me if you need anything._ **

 

Peter sighed and typed a quick reply, dropping his phone back onto the bed next to his head. He couldn’t decide whether he should attempt to get up and be productive, or go back to sleep and ignore his responsibilities. After a few seconds of heated internal debate, his eyes closed and he dragged the pillow closer to his face.

 

His sleep remained uninterrupted for a solid 10 minutes, before someone knocked at his door with a slow, but heavy, rhythm.

 

“Who’s there, JARVIS?” Peter moaned to the ceiling, rolling out of bed and dragging on pajama pants over his bruised legs. He’d had a rough time breaking up a gang fight the night before, but at least the majority of his bruising was able to be covered by clothes.

 

“Mr. Rogers, sir.” JARVIS replied back without hesitation. “Would you like me to ask him to leave a message?”

 

“No, I got it.” Peter drug the door open, shielding his eyes against the light that filtered through into his dark cave. Steve hovered brighter than the sun outside his doorway, a soft smile crossing his face at the appearance of the reclusive adult. “Hey, Steve.”

 

“Sorry, did I wake you?” Steve apologized, though it didn’t sound like he minded at all. “We’re watching a movie downstairs. Or, we were about to. You should come down.”

 

Peter glanced back at his bed everwelcoming, but he felt a light hand on his shoulder pulling him closer to the hallway. “Okay.” He finally agreed, even if it was clear it was a direction and not a request.

 

The living room typically remained empty, and served little purpose other than a sentimental image. However, the crisp leather couches were now creased under the weight of Tony and Sam, Tony curled around the laptop he was typing furiously at, Sam rubbing his face to relieve whatever tension was plaguing him. Peter opted for a single armchair separated from the others, Steve taking his place as Tony’s pillow and armrest.

 

“Glad to see you didn’t turn to dust or something in your sleep.” Tony looked up from his laptop, tucking it away on the table as he reached for the remote. “Are you okay, kid?”

 

“I just don’t feel so good.” Peter shrugged it off, grabbing the throw and dragging it over him. “What are we watching?”

 

“Some Russian psychological thriller. Natasha’s recommendation. So it’s probably going to make you shit yourself.” Tony grinned, the menu screen fading to life on the television. “You’ve never been good with horror movies. Want to back out?”

 

Peter grimaced, looking at the title previews with hesitation. Tony was right, he hated horror movies, but he could also see the desperate look Steve was throwing him asking him to stay. He’d probably be okay. “I’m not a little kid anymore, Tony. I can handle it.”

 

“We’ll see.” Tony laughed, pressing play, and Peter couldn’t help but swallow in uncomfortable anticipation.

 

The movie had him on edge throughout. His heightened awareness made jumpscares all the worse, his spidey senses tingling on high alert long before they happened. He had chewed his nails practically to the bed by the half-hour mark, and his anxiety that had been festering over the past few months seemed to be bubbling to the surface.

 

The title character was a young man, probably around 25. The other two main characters were the young man’s girlfriend and best friend. The killer in the story had remained unmasked, though signs were pointing towards the cliche of the title character unknowingly being the murderer. Peter had seen this trope a million times, yet this movie was resonating him in a way that made his chest tightened.

 

Particularly when the best friend was brutally killed in front of the title character and his girlfriend, very similar to the way that Harry had also been lying on the floor staring in terror up at Peter and Gwen just months ago…

 

_“Breathe. You can do it. Take a deep breath. Pete?”_

 

Peter tore his eyes from their trance, the movie having been paused, and turned to look at Sam crouched at his side, a firm hand rubbing his shoulder comfortingly. Only then did he realize he was having trouble catching his breath, his lungs seering. He swallowed down a slow intake of air, the spasming of his chest calming, and blinked back the dizziness clouding his head. Sometime through the movie he had begun hyperventilating, and he could still feel the panic curtaining his vision.

 

“Are you okay?” Sam asked with concern written clearly on his face, his hand tightening ever so slightly. “Do you not do well with blood?”

 

“Sorry, Peter. We shouldn’t have forced you to watch it.” Steve was staring just as intently at him, Tony sharing the same expression. “We can turn something else on-”

 

“I’m okay.” Peter forced himself to stand despite the dread still radiating in every limb, and Harry’s lips spitting out strained apologies in the corners of his vision. “I just got stressed about school. I should really go catch up on homework. I slept too long.”

 

“Pete-”

 

“I’ll probably work through dinner, but I’m not hungry, so it’s okay.” He continued, draping the throw on the back of the armchair to give him anything else to look at than his Dads and Sam. “Let me know how it ends?”

 

“...Sure.” Tony muttered, and Peter knew they wouldn’t push it any further.

 

“Cool. See you tomorrow.”

 

He was gone before the others could add another word. Steve’s eyes found Tony’s, and a brief resolve passed between the both of them. No matter how long it took, how much they had to invest, or how much they had to lose, they wouldn’t let the troubled kid go through any more heartbreak. Peter was their son and he deserved to be happy, and they would do anything to make that truth fact.

 

**December 2nd- Friday**

 

Another school day had proved to be more stressful than the last as Peter played catch-up in half his classes. The content wasn’t insanely difficult, but finishing assignments moments before they were due was, especially when half the time he was barely awake after nightly patrol. On the bright side, he was heading into his weekend with two homework assignments rather than five or six, which meant he might actually have a few extra hours of sleep. That also meant he could blow off steam with a much longer patrol tonight, and try to get ahead on the gun issue that was still looming over the city. He hadn’t heard back from Daredevil yet, but he figured he at least could get as many guns _out_ of the hands of teenagers as were being put into them.

 

Peter walked a few blocks away from his school, opposite of the direction of the tower, towards the less densely populated area of town. He ducked onto a narrow street leading into small-business Manhattan, then took a detour between buildings. His alley of choice was tucked beside a low-income senior home and an out-of-business salon, where the trash piles usually were taller than him and the gates were easy for him to climb but much harder for normal people to scale. He slipped behind the curve of the shattered windows jutting out from the side of the salon building, avoiding the broken glass, before drawing his backpack off of his shoulders.

 

His danger predictors were ringing before he had even gotten it halfway off. The back entrance of the salon led to the alley, and the door was being pushed open by someone that looked as if he hadn’t seen a shower in weeks. Peter could smell him from where he was standing a few feet away, and the squatter must have seen him pass the windows as he was immediately staring at Peter with his knife drawn.

 

Great. Peter wasn’t in the mood for fighting outside of his suit right now. It was always way harder trying not to give away his identity when he could punch harder than men twice his size without breaking a sweat.

 

“Gimee your backp’ck.” The man slurred, staggering closer to where Peter was parked.

 

“Yeah, no, can’t do that. I really need to keep my textbooks this term.” Peter shrugged, holding the bag just a little tighter. There was also the fact he had his Spider-man suit buried amongst them, but of course the mugger didn’t need to know that.

 

“I didn’t ask, stupid bitch. Gimme your backpack and your wallet.”

 

“What happened to just the backpack?” Peter complained, which earned him a snarl and a hand reaching for his bag. He refused to relent his grip, even when the man tugged at his straps. He could feel his muscles tensing, ready to rip the bag away, but even then he would have to run and scale the gate in a way that wouldn’t bring attention to himself. “Look, I might have a few bucks on me, but I definitely need my notes and pencils much more than you do.”

 

“Don’t call me stupid!” Somehow Peter had ended up infuriating the possibly-drunk-possibly-just-really-messed-up mugger, and he watched as the man threw a knife punch aiming directly for his face. And he truly meant knife punch. As in, the had stuck the knife between his closed fingers and his fist was swinging at his eyes. He probably should have moved a little faster out of the way, but he was a little preoccupied being in awe that this man was ready to kill him over a few papers.

 

When his knife-fist got a little too close for comfort Peter prepared himself to knock his fist away and push him off, though the both of them froze at a pipe clanging above them, probably coming from the roof of the senior home. There was the sound of scuffling boots, and the mugger brought the tip of his knife up to press against Peter’s neck threateningly. “Who the fuck is that?”

 

“I have no idea.” Peter mumbled, knowing it was likely just a window-washer that wouldn’t even pay them the time of day. “Can I just give you my wallet and get this over with?”

 

“Fuck yo--”

 

Peter felt the air pressure change above him, and he practically threw himself to the ground in order to avoid the heavy weight descending rapidly on them. The other man wasn’t so lucky, a boot connecting with his nose with a scream of pain. The drunk was on the pavement a second later, clutching his face as blood pumped steadily from it. Peter’s ninja-like savior picked himself up to standing, clad in red from head to toe, and stood over the fallen man like a demon sent from hell. “You should really consider a change in careers. Not your best work.”

 

“What the fuck are you?!” The mugger spit, reeling at the pain the action caused him.

 

“A hero about to get his hero’s rewards.” His smug grin was audible in his words. “Also a Deadpool. A good-ish Deadpool.”

 

“Oh God.” Peter held his backpack all the tighter, his heart racing in his chest. If there was anyone he wanted looking in his bag less than some random dude with a knife, it was a dude he knew with two very large swords. Yet those weirdly-expressive eyes looked directly at Peter a second later, where the college student was lying, and Deadpool closed the distance between them without hesitation.

 

“I came here to rescue you, damsel in distress.” The mercenary purred, outstretching a gloved hand. Peter ignored it, picking himself up off the ground as he dusted his jeans. “Mostly you were on my way home. I wasn’t going to stop, but we all know I can’t resist nerdy types. And I forgot my wallet in my other suit, so I figured you would buy your hero some grub.”

 

“You almost landed on me.” Peter groaned, pushing his glasses that served no true purpose higher on his nose. “How is that saving me?”

 

“Whoa there, sweetheart. Don’t forget the most important part; I didn’t.” Peter could practically hear his wink but he rolled his eyes and turned his back on the merc. He really had to get out of here before Wade began to recognize his voice. However, his attention was drawn back to the scene when the mugger started to get up, trying to make a run for it. Wade didn’t allow it, seizing him by his hair. “You, on the other hand, shouldn’t interrupt.” He slammed the man’s face against the wall, making Peter wince. He opened his lips to call out his name and demand he stop, but good judgement reminded him he would definitely get caught that way. After another angry scream the man attempted to throttle Wade, but the barrel of a deagle staring him down calmed down any more thrashing. “I really don’t like you.”

 

“H-Hey, Deadpool, wait.” Peter was frowning, not enjoying this at all. He was Spider-Man, and even if they didn’t know that, he had had way worse done to him than petty threats. “Look, you already broke his nose, I think he learned his lesson. You don’t need to kill him.”

 

“Ssh!” Wade looked at Peter like he had ruined the end of the Fault in our Stars, or Harry Potter, or whatever other movies Wade was currently working on on his list of movies to binge. “C’mon, I wasn’t actually going to unalive him. It was for dramatic effect. You ruined the surprise!”

 

“Hm.” Peter crossed his arms stubbornly, refusing to leave until he made sure this man got away mostly okay. “Just let him go. You’ve scared him enough.”

 

Wade groaned, tucking his pistol back in its holster and stalked back to where Peter stood in wait. The man scrambled to unsteady feet and somehow made it to the gate and out of sight in a few clumsy seconds. To Wade it might not have been a victory, but Peter was glad he didn’t have to serve as an accessory to murder when his weekend had just started.

 

“Whatever you say, sweet cheeks.” Peter could feel his neck heating up, but he ignored the embarrassment he felt. He could have easily knocked Wade on his ass right then, so playing kid-in-need-of-saving wasn’t exactly his forte. “You get saved by heroes often?”

 

“What?”

 

“You didn’t immediately run and scream. That’s usually the reaction I get.” Wade chirped, and Peter struggled for a good answer.

 

“I guess I just was too distracted by that heroic entrance.” Peter replied cooly, and he could see Wade perk up. He’d spent too much time with Wade not to know how to deflect his questions. “Seriously, though, aren’t you Deadpool? What are you doing out here?”

 

“I wasn’t lying about heading to Mi Casa. I was visiting good Ol’ Blind Al at this here senior center when I heard that sad voice screaming for help.”

 

“I definitely didn’t ask for help--”

 

“And I figured you must have had either loads of cash in your bag you weren’t willing to lose, you’re stupidly brave, or it was a gift from someone special, so either way I probably needed to step in. I’m Wade Wilson, merc for hire, but I also make a mean morning-after-banging omelette.”

 

“It really isn’t either of those. My camera is in here, and textbooks cost a lot of money.” Peter snorted as he shook his head. “Anyways, thanks for helping, but I gotta get home.”

 

“Camera? Maybe I can finally make my debut as an underwear model. Also I just saved you from Mr. Happy-Knives and you won’t even tell me a name to match that gorgeous face?”  Wade tilted his head at him expectantly, and Peter could feel his cheeks warming up. Sure, Wade tended to flirt with him as Spider-Man… a lot, but he didn’t know what Peter looked like under the mask. This was a little more personal than complimenting his body. But then again, Wade flirted with everyone, and this was likely just lip service.

 

“No.” Peter grinned, finally reaching the fence at the furthest end. He grabbed hold of it to start scaling it (which would be a lot easier if he didn’t have to look like a struggling normal-person) throwing one last look back at Wade. “Ask me next time we see each other.”

 

Peter made it up the short fence rather quickly, swinging his legs over when he heard Wade mutter a “Fuck that’s cool,” behind him. “Fine, then I’ll just call you Camera Cutie until then!” Wade yelled at him. He couldn’t help an embarrassed smile, before he dropped down on the other side of the fence and took off running so he wouldn’t be followed.

  


\----

 

“I’ll never understand-” Peter drug his body up against the ledge of the roof, leaning back against it. His hands immediately went to his side, making a makeshift band-aid to plug the blood seeping out onto his torn Spider-suit. “Why bad guys-oh god, this sucks-” He grit his teeth, each movement drawing out more pain from the wound, and dug his fingers into the suit to tear a bit further into it to access the shredded mess that was his skin. “Feel the need to use _claws_ . Why not knives? Why not swords? No, they have to use _claws_ so they can try to rip my stomach out.” Peter decided to brave the discomfort, breathing in with steady resolve. Finally examining the wound thoroughly, he could see 3 fingers still jutting out from his side, having accidentally torn them off the mutated arm of his attacker when he got himself free. He didn’t think he would bleed out, and he was sure major arteries had been missed. Really, it was just a matter of patching himself up and waiting for the gashes to mend themselves together. “Okay, I can do this. Even if it’s super gross.”

 

Through his shakiness Peter eventually managed to dig out the amputated limbs, tossing them into the dark alley off to his right. The stinging started to calm down now that he didn’t have sharpened fingernails poking at his guts, but he definitely didn’t feel like rushing home any time soon. His phone flashed, reminding him it was 10 PM, and he would have to show his face for curfew in half-an-hour before sneaking off again once Tony and Steve had passed out. That was a problem for not-currently-in-agony Peter, he decided, figuring he could leave 5 minutes before and still make it there around 10:30. For now, he just needed a breather.

 

The peace didn’t last very long, as per usual. Within a few minutes someone- and by someone, Peter meant Deadpool- had clamored up the fire escape and onto the same roof, walking closer to the collapsed Spider who refused to move or acknowledge him at the moment. “Spidey! I thought I heard you inner-monologuing. You made it just in time for our date. Where are the candles?”

 

“Not right now.” Peter wheezed, dropping his head back onto the ledge. It was uncomfortable, but better than the bird-droppings covered roof. “I just got gut-punched by Wolverine’s long lost cousin.”

 

“Sounds like my honeymoon.” Wade plopped down directly next to Peter’s limp body, studying the wound carefully, as if he could see anything out of his mask. “You’re definitely bleeding.”

 

“Thanks, Dr. Pool.” Peter rolled his eyes, though he had to admit that the distraction was nice. He could already feel his body working to heal as rapidly as possible. Though he wasn’t as indestructible as Deadpool, wounds that might take others weeks to heal from took him only a couple days.

 

“Well, _someone’s_ grumpy.” Wade patted his shoulder as gently as petting a puppy, and pulled his legs up under him in a childish manner. “Do you need a Snickers bar? You’re not you when you’re hungry.”

 

The thought of food made Peter’s stomach rumble, making Wade burst out into laughter. Maybe Peter had forgotten to eat since… probably the night before, considering he had rushed out the door to class this morning and had been on patrol ever since. He was surprised he could even think of eating right now. “H-Hey, I’ve been busy.” Peter flushed.

 

“Too busy to eat food? And people think I’m crazy.” Wade reached into his pocket, pulling out a Hello Kitty wallet, searching through for cash. “How about I go pick up a nasty stack of Meat Lover’s pizza, and then when I come back you get to listen to me talk about my day.”

 

“Uh…” Peter looked back down at his phone, biting his lip. He could probably be a few minutes late and still be okay, especially if he texted first to let them know. “I don’t have a ton of time, but as long as you’re fast…”

 

“There’s a reason why they call me minuteman.” Wade laughed, before running at the ledge of the building. “I’ll be back soon! Don’t disappear on me, baby boy!”

 

\----

 

Peter wasn’t sure when he had passed out, nor for how long he was asleep, but by the time he had woken up his body felt like he’d been run over by a truck, the bleeding had been stopped a piece of dollar store gauze pressed against his side, and his head was fighting off a migraine that was making him feel ill. The city smelled suspiciously of pizza, but Peter soon discovered a box from Pietro’s resting under his legs. A note laid on top with messy scrawls of handwriting, clearly from Deadpool, briefly explaining he hadn’t wanted to wake Peter up. The gauze must have been from him. How Wade had touched him without waking him up, he didn’t know, but he must have been completely dead to the world. He reached for his phone that was scattered next to him to check the time, groaning miserably when the clock read 1 AM. His notifications were filled with at least 12 missed calls from Tony, 4 from Steve, 1 from Wanda, and a multitude of texts demanding to know where he was.He decided not to reply, electing instead to just face their anger when he got there. He pulled himself to standing on shaky legs, and took almost no time throwing on his jeans and hoodie over his suit. From there he hesitated, grabbing a piece of pizza to shove in his mouth for the race home, before he shot out his web and launched himself off the side of the building.

 

At about 1:15 AM Peter Parker made the slow walk to his death. He couldn’t help but wonder if this is what Jesus felt like, but he knew he wouldn’t be making it to Heaven once his Dads murdered him. Tony would personally see to it he suffered in Hell for being so late without a single call or text.

 

Peter tried to be sneaky, hoping they could deal with this in the morning if he managed to remain unseen. He quietly typed in the code to unlock the condo and scanned his fingerprint, pushing open the front door gently. It creaked slightly, but Peter was careful to silently close it behind him. The lights were off, and hope bubbled every second he wasn’t being screamed at. Turning the corner slowly he took a single step towards the stairs leading up to his bedroom before someone cleared their throat behind him. Peter didn’t think it was possible to sound both very scary and very angry with a single noise, but there he was, too terrified to turn around. He froze, feeling himself about to throw up, before finally reeling around. Steve and Tony stood in the doorway of the kitchen, red-faced and menacing, and the heavy weight of their silence was enough to make Peter want to run away.

 

“Hey, I’m… so, so sorry.” Peter started to apologize, but the way Tony bristled made him wince. “I, um, I know there’s no excuses, but I was just hanging out at Gwen’s house doing homework, and I’m so exhausted I passed out. I totally didn’t mean to stay out so late. I slept through all your calls.”

 

“You know curfews mean you _come home_ right?” Tony said in a voice too even that it was worse than if he was yelling. “We had to wait up for you. I have a meeting in 6 hours, and I _really_ was hoping to get sleep before it.”

 

“I know, I-”

 

“Peter, the city-wide curfew is also in effect. You may not be under 18, but you’re still young, and we don’t want anything to happen to you.” Steve sighed, rubbing his temples as Tony grew more heated beside him. “You’re living back here with us now. May might have been more lenient, but as long as you’re under this roof you live by our rules.”

 

“And don’t forget they’re rules. Not recommendations. Rules.” Tony’s glare was scorching, and Peter could feel himself shrinking underneath it. “I want you to have friends and be able to go out, but if it gets in the way of your school and our expectations, then you’ll spend all day here. Studying. You still have responsibilities here, to us and to yourself. And I don’t want you running around New York alone at midnight when there’s these fucking pieces of shit out shooting people every night-”

 

“What your Dad is trying to say, Peter, is that we just want you safe, and we can only assume the worst has happened when you don’t answer us for 3 hours, or let us know exactly where you are.”

 

Peter was irritated, of course. He was 20 years old, and not even a month into him moving in they were already lecturing him. However, this fight wasn’t worth making worse just to win, so he settled for a resolved nod, staring down at his feet awkwardly. “Sorry. I’ll try to be better about communicating.”

 

“Good, that’s all we ask.” Steve smiled in satisfaction. “Go ahead and sleep. You look like a ghost.”

 

“Feeling like one too.” Peter added with a weak grin, his side aching horribly. He waved his pizza box as one last goodnight, before taking off upstairs to escape the anger still radiating off of Tony.

 

\--

 

**December  5th- Monday**

 

“See, I don’t think that will be as major of an issue as before.” Bruce explained, swiping his Stark Industries ID card. The light on the sensor beeped, and the glass door slid open to allow him and Peter to pass through. They were on their way to an Avengers meeting that had been paged through a few hours ago. Typically Peter wouldn’t go to these- even being the son of two heroes, he didn’t have that high of clearance- but he and Bruce wanted to discuss their progress with Tony. They’d been working tirelessly over the weekend to create a prototype of low manufacturing cost aid packs, which could be distributed for less than current care packages to struggling areas, as well as in a more condensed form. Both were excited to present their invention, even if Tony didn’t particularly care, but it was much easier to get it approved if they showed it to him face-to-face where he couldn’t procrastinate reviewing it.

 

“Hopefully we’ll see during trials.” Peter agreed, holding open the door to the actual meeting room for Bruce. “I think, on our current schedule, we should be able to begin those within the month--”

 

“Big green! You’re looking paler than usual.”

 

The pair stopped at the door, Bruce halfway inside the room, the voice immediately recognizable to both of them. Bruce’s shoulders slumped dejectedly as he gave a half-energized wave, Peter poking his head in the doorway to confirm it was really who he thought it was. “Hi, Wade.” Bruce muttered, rubbing the back of his head. “Is Tony here yet?”

 

“Nope. Just me and the rest of my super pals.” Wade folded his arms and tossed his feet carelessly up on the table, boots dropping dirt on the surface. “And who do we have hiding behind the…-! Wait, it’s you!”

 

Peter’s eyes shot open from where he was peaking in, all attention suddenly being shifted onto him. His heart rate shot up uncomfortably, and he stiffened as Wade got up and walked closer to him determinedly. “Heeeeey...”

 

“You’re the cutie with the camera! Or did I say camera cutie? Eh, both are true.” Wade was now standing over him, suddenly much taller when the rest of Peter’s extended family was watching the both of them in shock. “Anyways, you made me a promise!”

 

“A promise?” Tony spoke from behind Peter, making both him and the mercenary jolt in fear. That voice always seemed a little darker when Deadpool was around. “What the hell are you going on about? Why do you know Peter?”

 

  
“Peter? So that’s your name.” Wade teased in satisfaction, dancing back to the table to reclaim his spot before Tony sicked his super-husband on him. “I saved Petey-pie from a big bad like… 3 days ago? Some guy pulled a knife, wanted his backpack, and Peter was a complete wreck over it. Didn’t want to lose his stuff. So I got it back for him!”

 

“What? I wasn’t told about this.” Tony turned sharp eyes to Peter, who shrugged and gave him eyes that promised he would explain later.

 

“Yeah, uh, so we met.” Peter added a bit helplessly, but didn’t disagree, letting Wade have his moment to boast to the Avengers. He knew from past conversations as Spider-Man that Wade had begun to look up to them in recent years. He tried to impress them any chance he got. “For a second. It wasn’t really a huge thing.”

 

“Mhm.” Tony still stared at Peter suspiciously, but he honestly just wanted out of this conversation.

 

“Yeah, so I’m gonna head down to the lab to work on some stuff! See you guys later.” Peter said quickly as he backed out, Wade sitting forward to say something else before he was silenced by a hand on the shoulder from Sam. Wanda gave Peter a wave that he returned briefly, before he turned and walked off faster than he had before.

 

\---

 

“You work here?”

 

Peter felt all instincts kick on high alert as a voice played in his ears from behind him. He spun on his attacker, out of his chair in a second, fists drawn back as if to fight. However, those same stupid lifeless lenses stared at him from behind a red mask, and he realized a second later it was Deadpool. He’d been too engrossed in his work to notice someone sneaking up on him, though he doubted Wade really cared if Peter did notice. He dropped his fists and sunk back in the chair, Wade hardly even flinching. “How did you find me?” Peter gasped in exasperation and tucked his cheek into his fist, calming the adrenaline flooding his body.

 

Wade sad down on the table behind Peter’s computer. “I wanted to find you on my way out, to get that phone number you owed me.”

 

“Owed you?” Peter scoffed, though the entertainment was clear in his expression. “How do I owe you my number?”

 

“I saved you! And the heroes always get the kiss in the end. So cough it up Lois Lane.” Wade tossed his phone without warning at Peter, who caught it with ease. “Just hang out with me one time. That’s all I’m asking.”

 

“Hmm.” Peter started at the contact list, debating with himself whether this was really an okay idea. On one hand, Peter couldn’t risk one of the most violent mercenaries in the world finding out who he was, and the more time he spent with him, the more vulnerable he made himself. On the other hand, it was just a phone number, and it wasn’t like Peter even _had_ to answer his texts. Besides, in the suits, Peter _really_ trusted Wade, and they had formed a close friendship.. Before he’d even really come to a clear decision, he realized he had already created the contact in his phone, and passed it back a second later. “One hang out.” He agreed. “But you gotta go. I have a lot of homework today.”

 

“But I was having so much fun watching you concentrate. Did you know that when you’re focused, you do this thing where you li--”

 

“Go.” Peter groaned, pushing him off the table and out the door. Wade gave one last girlish wave, before skipping off down the hall to God-knows-where.

 

Peter didn’t mind being bothered by him. It was kind of nice, getting to talk without having to revolve their time around hero-stuff. Tony and Steve definitely wouldn’t approve, but Peter could just hide it for now. After all, they probably would just hang out once then never talk as Peter and Wade again.

 

\--

 

Peter’s text alert went off around 10 PM, just as he was performing his nightly ritual of ‘going to bed.’ Or pretending to, until Tony and Steve cleared out the living room and made it easier for Peter to escape silently. He rolled onto his bed and reached for his phone, drawing it up to see whatever Wade had finally sent.

 

However, it turned out to be from Daredevil instead, and Peter felt his excitement fall flat.

 

**_Found your possible dealer. Large sale tomorrow night at Pier 90. Meet me there at 12:15._ **

 

Peter put the address into his notes before deleting the text, dropping his phone to finish pulling off his suit. This was great. The sooner he could make progress, the safer the kids around the city would be.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact: The Mass Peter and May attend is at the same church that Matthew Murdock goes to!
> 
> If you like my work, consider donating to my ko-fi! All funds will go towards giving me more time to write and update. ko-fi.com/katren


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna try to update once a month for this story, and hopefully gonna start writing my Tony Stark's Rules for Superhero Sex, as well as continuing my Omegaverse! I also am participating in the Spideypool Bang this year, so I'm super sorry if I'm not super consistent with my posting! 
> 
> As always, I take requests on my tumblr (Spideypoolhell)

**December 6th- Tuesday**

 

Peter triple checked the address on his phone, clarifying that the busy warehouse was the location Daredevil had sent him. Rather than being surrounded by shady looking cars or loads of body guards, the location seemed fairly normal and active, with a consistent stream of workers entering and exiting the building loaded with supplies. Typically, this wouldn’t be the ideal place for a gun deal, but it also seemed like it could function as the perfect cover. Smart one, bad guys. It was also 12:13, and the Devil himself was nowhere to be seen. Maybe he was stalking the area from a distance, too, waiting for Peter to show up, or maybe he was just a really punctual guy. Either way, Peter had shown up 20 minutes ago to scope out the area, and had grown antsy while waiting. 

 

Exactly when he said he would be there, Horns made his appearance on the same roof as him. Peter caught a glimpse of red out of the corner of his eye, seeing the masked vigilante pull himself up onto the roof in a similar fashion to how he had. He was always amazed at the fact that Daredevil seemed to always know exactly where Peter was hiding. 

 

“You’ve been here a while?” Daredevil asked, slipping down to crouch next to Peter and process what was happening below. “I said 12:15.” 

 

“Better early than late.” Peter shrugged, noting the exits, the windows, where the most workers were, how old they were… and any other information about the set up that could be vital to their success. “So, what are we looking at?” 

 

Daredevil seemed to smile (Peter didn’t know he knew how) at the question, but didn’t comment on it. “A large sale. From what I’ve gathered, mostly handguns and rifles. Seems like they’re trying to arm a militia. There’s a good chance the buyers are connected to whoever is distributing guns to kids in your area. The sellers are associates to others I’ve been chasing for a while. There’s supposed to be rather strong marksmen with them as well. Will you be okay?” 

 

“I’ve been shot at before. I’m fine.” Peter said dismissively, standing up. “Any idea when…?” 

 

“Ssh.” Daredevil hushed, tilting his head in focus. “They just got here. There’s a truck around the corner. Let’s go.” 

 

Peter leapt onto the other warehouse first, though Daredevil wasn’t far behind, as he crawled to the window nearest to the truck. Boxes were being unloaded into a room that wasn’t occupied, where a group of masked men were waiting. Peter gripped the glass pane with his fingertips and slowly drug it open, slipping past the sill and holding himself taut until he could drop silently onto the ceiling beams. The group was busy discussing payment as the lids to the crates were pried open, though Peter was more so focused on the men and women cradling their own firearms. As Daredevil had said, they looked skilled from the way they carried themselves, and the dealers had obviously come well prepared for interruptions. 

 

“Let’s be quick.” One of the buyers proclaimed, looking antsy. His voice threw Peter off, making him freeze. He sounded young. And familiar? Where had he heard his voice before? Also, why was someone so childish sounding buying a boatload of guns to give out like party favors? “I wanna get this over with before we get noticed.” 

 

“No doubt we’ll have guests soon. We’ve been having...issues. Nothing our present company can’t handle. Now, the payment?” 

 

“Right, yeah. It’s all here, in cash.” The same kid spoke, looking up and around, though Peter stayed shrouded, pressed against the beam seamlessly. “Issues? Like what? Police?” 

 

“Just an issue.” Another man answered in annoyance. “Great. Have your men start loading as soon as possible.” 

 

“O-Okay.” 

 

Peter waited, even as the first crates were dollied out a separate exit than where they had come in. Daredevil hadn’t made a move yet, and he knew the presumably-more-experienced hero was waiting for something. 

 

Once the fourth crate had gone out, he heard it; a scream of pain outside. The dealers were suddenly on high alert, two of the guards running out towards the source. Peter took this as his chance, shot a web as his wrists swung out, and ripped two of the guns from the guards. He flipped down to the lower level, using his force and agility to knock down and web a few panicked workers. A gun aimed too close to his face was knocked off to the side, and pretty soon he had cleared out quite a few amateurs without taking a single bullet to his body. Small victories. 

 

Panic erupted among those that were left, split among the two vigilantes that possessed much more strength than those they were against. Peter couldn’t see Daredevil, but by the steady stream of bullets and cursing outside, he could tell he hadn’t been gotten the better of. 

 

“No, No, please! This wasn’t me! I didn’t tell anyone!!” 

 

One of the masked kids was pleading. He had a barrel in his face, one of the other kids screaming at him in utter panic. “YOU TOLD SOMEONE. YOU CAN’T KEEP YOUR FUCKING MOUTH SHUT.” 

 

“It wasn’t me! Please, Ryan,  _ P-Please don’t kill me.”  _

 

“Shut the fu--” 

 

Peter didn’t have a choice. He kicked the gunman Ryan back, shooting a web at the ceiling to suspend himself before throwing his weight at the kid on the floor. He grabbed hold of the wrist of the third teenager and jerked him back, kicking his gun away. The kid on the floor tried to run, but Peter stuck his hands to the crate. He may have saved him, but he wasn’t letting him get away, scared or not. “Really not a good time to turn on each other, man.” Peter snorted. “You guys could have gotten really hur--” 

 

Multiple shots rang out from across the warehouse, but Peter felt a warning tingle run up his spine before the gun had even fired. One of the men he had ditched half a minute ago to save the crying teen was back on his feet, and his barrel was pointed directly at the hero. The bullets barely missed as Peter maneuvered himself back towards him, so close he could hear them whizz by his ear. Daredevil hadn’t been kidding about their accuracy. It was scary how close the bullets were getting. 

 

“Spider-Man, move!” Peter looked back to see the vigilante in question run into the warehouse, kicking back one of the henchman running at him with a desperate look on his face. “Or, watch out!!” 

 

Too late. Someone shot from Peter’s side, and the distraction of Daredevil’s warning mixed with trying not to presently get hit with bullets had kept him from noticing. He jerked out of the way last second, but not before the bullet entered the right side of his arm and tore through his skin. Daredevil was on the offender a second later, tearing the gun from his hands and sending him flying off the stairs and towards the floor. Peter could feel a numb burning in his forearm but he ignored it, finishing off the last of those that had stuck around. Once he had everyone that hadn’t dipped out during the chaos webbed and bound to the floor, he finally relaxed back against a wall, a little exhausted but full of adrenaline. 

 

“I called the police. They’re on their way.” Daredevil muttered, making his way back to where Peter was resting. “Unfortunately, the head of the dealers got away, but I managed to get an approximate address of someone who knows him personally. So Hell’s kitchen should get cleaned up soon. And with those two,” He jabbed his thumb at the shivering ones in masks still attached to the crates. “We should figure out who’s distributing elsewhere. Thanks for helping.” 

 

“Just another fun day on the job.” Peter sighed back, slightly out of breath and not possessing the energy to make any smartass comment. 

 

“You got shot. You’re bleeding.” Daredevil suddenly frowned, attention turning down towards the bullet wound Peter had half forgotten about. 

 

“It’s not that bad. I think. I’ve never actually gotten shot before. Hurts a lot less than I thought it would.” Peter looked down at where blood was collecting around the hole, spreading over the fabric of his suit. 

 

“For now. It’ll be worse when you wake up in the morning. C’mon, let’s get the bullet out and get you stitched up properly, so it doesn’t get infected.” 

 

“Hospitals aren’t my thing.” Peter said uneasily, already beginning to feel the ache as his nerves started to calm. 

 

“Mine either. I have a friend who can help. She’s nearby. Let’s go.” 

 

\--

 

“Okay, it was a clean exit, so it should be a pretty smooth heal. Just don’t be up and moving too much, yeah?” Claire, the nurse that apparently tended to clean up quite a few of Daredevil’s allies, looked up at Peter’s mask and gave him a soft smile. The smile fell almost instantly when Peter nodded and stood up, poking at the skin around the stitches inquisitively. “Not like anyone takes my advice anyways. I’ll be in my room if you need anything else. Just lock the door behind you when you leave.” 

 

“Thanks, Claire.” Daredevil said briefly, shaking his head when Peter began getting dressed. “You really should take her advice.” 

 

“Do you?” Peter asked, dragging his zipper up the back of his neck. 

 

Daredevil just gave a soft laugh. He shifted to stand up, and his face grew more serious. “That was a lot of guns, but I don’t think that was the only deal going on tonight. There’s likely at least half that being pushed into your area tonight. There was already one incident with a kid pulling a pistol on his parents in Brooklyn two days ago. Just be careful when you’re not… working. High schools are probably their biggest target.” 

 

“Right.” Peter agreed, walking towards the window to open it, he began to pry it up when he froze and looked back at him. “What do high schools have to do with my normal life?”

 

Daredevil’s lips pursed awkwardly, a little speechless. “You… sorry. I just assumed. It’s the voice.” 

 

Peter could feel his face burning up, and he was once again thankful for his mask hiding his embarrassment. “Uh, no, definitely older than that. But I’ll keep a look out anyways. Thanks for the help.” 

 

“Call me if you need anything.” 

 

“‘Kay, grandpa.” Peter snarked playfully, before leaping out the window and throwing a web out to head back towards the tower before daylight. 

  
  
  


**December 8th - Thursday**

 

The smell of breakfast woke Peter up from his coma-like-sleep he had fallen into early that morning. It was Thursday, which meant Peter was supposed to be working down in the lab around 9 am, but he had somehow slept through all of his alarms. Peter’s stomach immediately started growling, and he found the energy to crawl out of the covers, despite the soreness looming over him. He pulled on a light sweater and jeans, scuttling tiredly downstairs. He expected to find Steve alone in the kitchen,maybe Tony sipping on coffee, but he definitely wasn’t prepared to find the entire team stuffed in the dining room and grabbing for food. 

 

“Good morning, Peter.” Natasha greeted as soon as he rounded the corner, throwing him a warm smile. He tried to ignore how creepy it was to see her so cheerful, looking around at the others with surprise on his silent lips. 

 

“Hey, Aunt Nat.” Peter returned absentmindedly, blinking as he tried to work out why everyone was congregated. “Did I miss something? Do you guys do this often?” 

 

“We have another meeting later with Director Fury.” Wanda smiled as she took her place at the table with her plate of food, followed by Clint. “And you know Steve will use any excuse for a group meal-” 

 

“If I don’t make sure you all eat, you’ll starve yourselves.” Steve returned, dropping a full plate on the center of the table. Steve really had grown to be a great cook. He didn’t have to work, so besides missions and working out, cooking was his only hobby. “Glad to see you’ll be joining us.” 

 

“I really shouldn’t be any later to help Bruce than I am.” Peter frowned, rubbing the back of his head. Pancakes sounded  _ amazing _ right about then, though. “I was supposed to be there already.” 

 

“Banner’s in the bathroom.” Tony said from the counter, pointing sternly at the tile surfaces full of food. “Eat breakfast. Steve worked so hard to impress you.” 

 

Peter grinned, taking the chance to walk over to the cabinet to grab his own plate. His metabolism was crazy fast now with his powers, and he could engorge himself without getting full, but he grabbed a normal sized amount anyways. 

 

“You’re losing your stamina.” Peter tuned into the conversation the heroes were busy snickering over,  Natasha critical as ever. “I swear I saw you break a sweat on our jog this morning.” 

 

“I still got it.” Sam brushed off, standing from his chair and walking over to grab a glass of water. “You caught me on a bad day. Let’s see who can run a mile faster tomorrow.” 

 

“Or you could spar in the gym. I would love to see you get your ass kicked.” Wanda added.

 

“Yeah, no, I don’t feel like having my arms broken today. I know that’s not a fight I can win.” Sam snorted, dropping his fork and walking up behind Peter. “There’s only one person I can still beat up in this house.” 

 

Sam grabbed Peter jokingly, meaning to fake-wrestle him, and Peter normally wouldn’t mind the light roughhousing. However, he had definitely forgotten about his half-healed stitches on his upper arm, and he felt a finger bury itself in the opened wound a second later. Sam’s laughter died off quickly when Peter made a pained sound and jerked away on instinct. Peter stared back up at him in just as much surprise at his reaction as the other man. 

 

“Oh, um, sorry.” Sam stammered out an apology, but Peter shook his head. He could hear the chatter die down, and Tony stood from where he was sitting at the counter. 

 

“No, it’s nothing. Just bruises.” Peter explained sloppily. 

 

“Bruises?” Tony crossed the kitchen, holding out his hand to demand Peter’s arm. When Peter didn’t move to complete his request, Tony grabbed his wrist forcefully to drag his sleeve up.

 

“Wait, Tony, it’s nothing-” 

 

“What are these from?” Tony grimaced. Peter’s sleeve only went up to his elbow-luckily-so his stitches were out of sight, though his purpled skin from where he had gotten his arm crushed the night before was on full display. 

 

“Gym class.” Peter answered quickly. 

 

“Gym? You’re in college.” Steve joined the two, also surprised by the marks littering his arm. 

 

Right. That excuse hadn’t worked for years. Peter searched his groggy mind for a good reply, but he hadn’t had to lie about Spider-Man since he was less experienced, and May had stopped noticing his injuries. “Voluntary...gym?” 

 

“Peter.” 

 

“Okay, uh, I got in a small fight?” Peter murmured, pulling his arm back as he drug his sleeve back down. 

 

“A fight? Were you jumped again?” Tony growled, making Peter shake his head vigorously. 

 

“No, I just kinda ran into this group of guys from my college picking on some homeless dude. It wasn’t anything bad,they just messed around with me and I fell. It was stupid.” 

 

“Give me their names. I’m calling my lawyer.” Tony said immediately, grabbing a pen and paper from the counter and shoving it in Peter’s face. 

 

“No! Tony it’s okay, they were just being childish.” Peter swallowed, hating that everyone else was listening to him and looking at him like a kicked dog. If only they knew how minor getting pushed around by old bullies was in comparison to what he did now. “Seriously, I barely even thought about it. I’m used to it by now.” 

 

Tony’s expression softened to pity at his answer, and Peter groaned and turned away. “This is why I asked Happy to be your school commute. I don’t want you being alone if you feel unsafe.” 

 

“I don’t feel unsafe! I can get home on my own, I just...It was a one time thing. I’ll never see them again. Can we just drop it?” 

 

“And what about you almost getting your stuff stolen? Getting jumped by a guy with a knife?” Tony continued, making Peter audibly groan in frustration. He was way too stubborn, and Peter was getting annoyed. 

 

“The knife thing turned out fine. I still have my backpack and no knife in my throat. Isn’t that a win?” Peter huffed. “Besides, you can’t lecture me on things being dangerous when you and Steve run off and fight aliens and terrorists every other weekend! You expect me not to do anything when I see people that need help?”

 

“Hey, guys…” Clint approached carefully from the side, holding out his hands to try and make peace, as he could see annoyance growing on both sides. “Maybe not argue right now?” 

 

“No, don’t pull that with me. I’m talking to Peter, not you, arrow.” Tony dismissed, eyebrows lowering at his son. “I’m not saying you can’t  _ help _ , but I’m saying not to put yourself in danger! There’s an emergency line for a reason.There’s actual  _ heroes _ for a reason! So that  _ trained professionals _ can take care of violent people, not some young kid!” 

 

“Tony, drop it.” Steve sighed. “We were  _ finally  _ having a nice time.” 

 

Peter was seething, but doing his best to keep his cool. 

 

“Except when have ‘trained professionals’ ever been concerned about the little guy on the streets? I’ve never seen Iron Man go and save a homeless guy getting jumped or a little girl who got out of her house at night! That’s why we have to have smaller heroes like Spider-Man and Jessica Jones and Daredevil, to save the people too unimportant for you guys.” Peter was talking quicker than his brain could process, and it was easy to see this conversation had gotten heavily off topic, but he was too frustrated to care. 

 

“Heroes like Spider-Man and Daredevil should be in jail.” Tony said flatly, and Peter could feel his heart stop cold. 

 

“Whoa, hey, we’re not here to debate that kind of stuff.” Sam interjected with a frown. 

 

“They’re operating outside the law, and leaving messes I have to clean up. Why do you think we’re trying to get them registered? They’re vigilantes, they don’t report to anyone, and they’re giving us all a bad name.” Tony’s words stung, each and every one, like a blade being shoved into Peter’s stomach. He’d always assumed that, if anything, Spider-Man wasn’t really a concern for the Avengers, but Tony sounded pretty upset. “But that’s not the point. The point is that there’s other heroes-  _ legal heroes _ \- who can help yo-- Peter! Where are you going?” 

 

Peter was angry. Angrier than he wanted to be in front of other people. Of course he was taking this all personally, and he didn’t want to say something stupid. So he pushed past Tony and dropped his plate on the counter, stomping out of the room in the most moody-teen-stereotypical way possible. But, seriously! Tony had no right to stand there criticizing people that were trying to make a difference! 

 

“Peter!” 

 

“Stop, Tony, you took it too far. There was no need to go after people Peter obviously looks up to. Whether we think what they’re doing is right or not.” Steve sighed, and the sounds of eating quietly began to pick up once more. 

 

There were footsteps following Peter, even after the noises of the room had disappeared behind him. Peter spun on whoever had followed him before she had even had a chance to catch up, coming face to face with Wanda. He blinked at her in confusion, but she pulled him into his bedroom and shut the door. 

 

“Hey, Wanda.” Peter frowned, slightly confused, slightly embarrassed at having a girl in his room right when he was about to have a break down. “Not to be rude, but why are you..?” 

 

“I know who you are.” Wanda said softly, and Peter straightened immediately. “Don’t worry, I haven’t- and won’t- tell anyone.” 

 

“What do you mean?” Peter swallowed, panic rising. 

 

“I mean, I don’t know  _ if _ you’re anyone, but I know you have powers. And I know you have an injury that probably has stitches, and I just want to make sure you didn’t rip them.” Wanda explained, stepping back to give the emotional boy space. “You should take off your sweater, just so I can check it.”

 

“How do you…?” 

 

“My mind lets me see much more than I want to, sometimes. Like I said, I can tell you have a reason for your family to think that you’re normal, and I won’t take that away from you.” Wanda smiled softly. “I just want to check, just to put both of us at ease.” 

 

Peter hesitated, but quietly removed his sweater without a fight a minute later. There was some blood at the stitches on both sides now that they had been manhandled. 

 

Wanda checked the wound over carefully, and assured that the skin was mending together correctly. “I’ll go get tissues and rubbing alcohol. I’ll be right back.” 

 

“I’m ok--.. Okay.” Peter tried to insist, but she was gone before he could. 

 

\--

 

**December 9th- Friday**

 

**_hey brains, ill be at la hacienda on 12th st l8r tonite at like 4. wanna meet me there? ill bring the money if you bring the hunny_ **

 

**_this is dp b t dubs ;)_ **

 

Peter reread the text for the 20th time that day since he had woken up to it a few hours back. He definitely hadn’t been expecting to wake up to an invite from the mercenary, having barely even returned his texts since they had exchanged numbers, but he wasn’t about to complain, either. He recognized the name of the restaurant; it had been on a vast number of bags of food Wade had picked up post-mission. The fact Peter was being taken to Spider-Man and Deadpool’s spot was a little insulting, but he knew how weird it was to be jealous of himself so he brushed away the stupid thoughts. Instead, he had gotten dressed and arrived at the door of the cantina at about 4:05 (Wade had said 4- _ ish _ ), triple checking that he had the right building, that he was indeed Brains, and that he wasn’t about to make a total fool of himself by showing up dressed like he was hanging out alone with Wade when it was actually going to be a group of mercenaries or something. 

 

When Peter finally gathered his nerves and pushed the door open, he found a mostly empty hole in the wall spot, dimly lit and plainly decorated, with a contrasting red-clad man chilling at a booth alone. Peter was momentarily relieved when he realized he  _ had _ been the only one that Wade invited, though he felt bad for showing up late. Upon seeing him, Wade sat up with puppy-like excitement, scooching to one end of the bench to make room for the photographer timidly walking over. 

 

“I don’t normally see people like you in a shithole like this.” Wade crooned, and Peter could feel his cheeks heating up. Why had he come again? “I’m really glad you made it. I ordered a number 12, 15, 3, and 22, and I didn’t wanna explode again trying to scarf it all down alone.” 

 

“What can I say? You have a way with words.” Peter grinned, feeling his nervousness ebb away as they fell back into their typical speaking patterns and jokes. “How did you even find this place?” 

 

“I killed the original owner.” Wade declared without so much of a pause, crossing his arms and relaxing back as the wood squeaked. Peter gave an incredulous look, prompting Wade to continue. “He deserved it, though. Toooootal asshole. Abusive as all shit; kept the money to himself and forced his wife and kids to work for free. I killed him, they took over, and now the kids have new shoes for school.” 

 

“That’s… interesting.” 

 

“So I guess you could count that under my ‘heroing.’” 

 

“Heroes wouldn’t have killed him, though. Taken down, sure. But killed?” 

 

“Please don’t tell me you’re into that whole reforming stuff.” Wade groaned and dramatically flopped back against the back of the booth seats. 

 

“I think there’s hope for everyone.” Peter shrugged, and luckily the waitress approached with their mounds of food just in time to change the subject.

 

Their conversation was... nice. Like always, they were exchanging jokes and smartass comments like it was the only way they knew how to talk. Wade had Peter both laughing and scolding him, and Wade was completely entertained making the college student suppressing giggles. Eventually they landed on the topic of video games, somehow jumping around from the Avengers, to school, to celebrity crushes, and a few other subjects that got lost amongst their witty banter. 

 

“Fallout isn’t even CLOSE to as good as Oblivion.” Wade groaned, stuffing the last of the plate of tamales and rice in his mouth. He turned away to pull up his mask and eat, but Peter was used to this after years of falling into habits, and never questioned it. “That’s like… comparing massaging naked old ladies to spending a day in Guantanamo Bay! Both of which are scary but strangely exciting, by the way.” 

 

“Oblivion was  _ awesome _ . One of the best Elder Scrolls games in my opinion. Also why were you..? You know what,never mind.” Peter snorted, stacking the empty plates together and placing their used napkins on top to make clean up easier. 

 

“You’re killing me, Pete. Next you’re gonna say Christening was good.” 

 

“Oh, I never played it.” 

 

“You never played…?!” Wade sat forward immediately, his voice squeaking like he’d heard the worst news in the world. Peter leaned back slightly to keep at least some distance between them. “Oh my god, Oh my  _ god. _ That’s it, we’re leaving.” 

 

“We have to pay-” 

 

Wade drug out his wallet and slammed down two 100 dollar bills. “Paid. Let’s go. I am not letting you miss out on the best RPG from 2012. We’re going to my apartment  _ right now,  _ and you’re not leaving until you admit it’s amazing.”

 

“I’m kinda on a tight schedule.” Peter frowned, glancing down at his phone nervously. It was already past dinner time, and he’d been out since that morning for school. Sure, he was an adult, but he was already walking on thin ice with Tony and Steve. 

 

Peter felt Wade shift beside him, and when he looked up, Wade was awkwardly avoiding looking at him- which looked much stranger with his mask- and standing up to go. “It’s okay. It’s stupid of me to ask. Obviously you’re not gonna go to a private place with a killer like me. That would be dumb.” Wade laughed it off, but Peter could hear the strangely sad tone in his voice. “I’ll bring my copy to you next time I see you, and you can just tell me how kickass it is.” 

 

“Wait, no, Wade!” Peter also scrambled to his feet, his heart twisting with guilt. “I do wanna go. I just have a ton of homework to do. But I can put it off a few hours to play it. If it really is that good..?” 

 

Wade perked up immediately, obviously very satisfied with his answer. “Fuck yeah, it’s awesome. You’ll love it! Come on!” 

 

Peter’s wrist was seized and he was being drug out the door a second later to go fetch a taxi, barely keeping his messenger bag on his shoulder in all Wade’s excitement. Wade was such a child at times, but Peter had grown to enjoy that part of him, he realized with a grin. 

 

\---

 

Wade was right. The Christening  _ was _ really cool. 

 

“What’s even going on?” Peter wheezed, jolting in reaction to a zombie saint running at him from the darkness. He was sitting criss cross on Wade’s couch, tilting and sitting forward as if moving with the character on screen would make him run faster. He hit the right trigger as if his life depended on it, a bat smashing into the head of the saint, before he continued on. Wade was laying back on the couch in just his suit, accessories strewn on the floor, completely absorbed in watching the nerdy-boy-with-the-fast-reflexes tapping away at the controller. 

 

“Petey, duck!” Wade screeched, nearly rolling off the couch as he flipped out when Peter almost got jumped by a boss running at him from his right. Peter imitated his fearful scream as he hit the button to duck last second, then continued running through the dark forest to lead the boss towards a more open area. 

 

“I’m gonna die, oh my god, oh my god.” Peter couldn’t help laughing hysterically, terrified but having way too much fun. “I hate you so much. Why did I let you rope me into this?” 

 

“Because this game will make you shit yourself. But in a fun way.” Wade giggled and rolled off the sofa, picking himself up and walking over to the kitchen. “Do you want ice cream? Double fudge brownie!” 

 

“Sure, sure. Thanks.” Peter twitched again as he finally got to a calmer part of the level, pausing the game to save. He looked up at Wade, who was standing in the kitchen scrubbing at bowls, hearing him muttering under his breath, as if practicing a speech. “Everything okay?” 

 

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Just um…” Wade grabbed paper towels to dry the bowls, before starting to pack large amounts of ice cream into each. “You just… you seem so familiar.” 

 

Peter felt his heart stop in his chest, but he forced his face to remain level. “What?” 

 

“I dunno. I just feel like you’re almost  _ too _ easy to talk to and too comfortable around me. Most people change their mind when they see home sweet home. But you stayed. That’s just weird.” 

 

“I’ve seen worse.” Peter shrugged, going back to his game as he bit at the inside of his cheek anxiously. “Besides, you do most of the talking anyways. I don’t have to say much.” 

 

“I guess so. That’s probably it.” Wade dropped back down onto the couch, passing Peter the bowl. “Plus you work with super heroes, apparently. I’m nothing special compared to them.” 

 

“You’re pretty awesome compared to them, actually. They’re a lot more serious. But in better control of their mouths.” 

 

“So you think I’m awesome?” 

 

“Obviously.” Peter rolled his eyes, feeling redness rise up his neck. “I came here after barely meeting you, didn’t I?” 

 

Wade was quiet, then seemed to find intense interest in his food. “That’s really gay.”

 

“Shut up.” 

 

“But I like it when you’re all sweet to me. Do you look up to me? Am I your favorite hero?” 

 

“I’m going back to my game.” 

 

“Should I get you a pair of Deadpool undies and matching socks?” 

 

“ _ Wade _ I’m gonna leave.... Do those even exist?” 

 

“Oh yeah, I have a ton. No one bought them when I tried to sell them at Farmer’s Market, surprisingly. Besides a couple kids who called me Spider-Man.” 

 

“Did you tell them you’re not?” 

 

“It never came up-- HOLY SHIT PETER RUN FASTER.” 

 

Peter released a matching, terrified scream as a boss larger than the last was hot on his heels, the pair doubling over in laughter as he barely escaped. In the back of the college student’s mind, he knew he shouldn’t be deceiving his friend this way, but he pushed the thought away when he heard Wade snickering and felt his heart skip a beat. 

  
  



End file.
